


Ambiguous

by hollo



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Drug use mention, M/M, Mental Illness, Non-Chronological, Regret, happy times too though, there are very bad people described in the last chapter horrible people I'm sorry, underage implied at one point but not outwardly stated or described
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-21
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 17:51:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 10,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18183824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollo/pseuds/hollo
Summary: A collection of song-themed shorts based around Axel-Demyx-Roxas. AU! Experimental writing styles aboundThere's rough things in here and sad things but also soft things and sunny things; three lost souls who don't know just how to exist with each other or without-originally published in 2010-





	1. Stars ~ HUM

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally written in 2010, and is one of those projects I wish I'd never dropped. Unfortunately the playlist I was using for this fic died along with Grooveshark and that sorta put a damper on this ever being resurrected.  
> But with KHIII coming out I thought I'd bring it over to AO3 because while its rough and probably bad it still holds a special, dark place in my heart.
> 
> It's got good moments, it's got bad moments. It's the sour with a little bit of sweet, but there's a bitterness that comes at the end. 
> 
> And really, now that I've read through it again, I think it works just fine as it is, ending on the note it does.

The house was dark as he stepped inside, the air heavy with a static buzz. He stepped further into the darkness to find the TV on in the living room, the screen white and grainy. He left it like that, throwing flickering pale light over the empty couch and three legged coffee table, and walked deeper into the house. He had passed the light switch but hadn't bothered to flip it, and he headed onward, moving by instinct in the darkness made deeper by the darkness outside the windows.

The living room walls closed in on a narrow hallway, and he walked past the nearly closed bathroom door, the steady drip of water from the faucet following him on his path. Pale, weak light filtered down through the hallway towards him from where the kitchen was situated, and he bypassed the single bedroom with its broken door. Paper crinkled beneath his boots, scattered newspaper pages and magazines he could just barely make out in the half-light. A few steps later he stepped on something that cracked and shattered under the thick soles of his boots. Taking a step back, he saw the tell-tale glitter of broken glass scattered across the kitchen floor.

The light in the room came from the single bare light bulb hanging outside the back screen door above the porch. It flickered as it swung slightly in the gentle breeze outside, sending shadows scattering across the kitchen floor and walls.

The refrigerator hummed steadily, and he walked over to pull the door open. He placed the case of beer on the first shelf, paused, and pulled out a handful of daisies. The stems were cold against his palm, brittle in his fingers. He closed the refrigerator door and walked across the kitchen floor to the back door, the crackle of breaking glass shadowing him. He pushed the door open, bringing the daises up to his face and breathing deep. They smelled earthy and cold and utterly dead.

He stepped out onto the porch, the lone bulb swinging gently over his head, his shadow stretched to every side, flickering with the light. He took the three steps down slowly and casually, letting the hand that held the daisies drop to his side. He passed discarded shoes, Converse with the star blacked out, a pair of old jeans and a navy blue band shirt with a cat in a wagon design on the front. The grass of the backyard was green but dry, gleaming darkly with night dew. He stopped at the naked body lying prone in the grass, back to the ground, limbs bent at unnatural angles. Twirling the daisies in his fingers, he looked down into glazed blue eyes, tilted his head to listen for the near-silent sound of breathing. Hooking his thumbs through the belt loops on his pants, he looked up at the sky and the glittering stars. Tracing figures through the dots of glittering white, he smiled.


	2. Cake ~ The Distance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of these chapters were highly influenced by the song themes so, there's that. Also I liked this idea a lot back then...

The race wasn't long enough. Truth, they never were. He slowed his horse from his gallop a few yards after crossing the finish line, angling towards the outside edge. The black beast snorted, eyes rolling and saliva foaming around the bit in its mouth. He eased back on the saddle, sitting as comfortably as he could on the hard leather, and ignored the cheers of the crowd as the announcers called out the first three places. He wasn't in any of them.

His thoughts weren't there, anyway. Not that they ever were. As soon as he sat on the horse, his mind went on autopilot, thoughts distant and focused on a person he could be certain was not thinking of him at the same moment. He frowned to himself as he led the horse to the gate and past it. Stopping it outside the track fence, he climbed off and swung the reins over the horses head and led it towards the stables. There should have been stable boys there to help him but there weren't any, but he didn't mind. He preferred not to have his thoughts interrupted after a race, thoughts that bordered on wistful and even happy, thoughts of past times and past memories that were usually kept tucked deep, deep away in his mind.

The horse snorted as he led it to its stall and got started on it. By the time he finished the stable was full and the noise level had risen above his own idea of tolerable levels. He left the horse to wait for its owner and headed out. He was at the payphone before he realized it, helmet hanging from one hand as he stared at it. The number was in his head already, it always was, and this wasn't the first time he'd stood in front of this payphone after a race.

He had another race in two hours, and then one more a half hour after that. Four races tomorrow. Five the day after, and ten total over the weekend. His body was one huge ache and he didn't even feel it anymore, really. He didn't really feel anything anymore.

He stepped closer to the payphone and reached under the casing to where he had stuck two quarters in the crack of the joint a week earlier. He rested the helmet on top of the phone housing and picked up the sleek black receiver. He dropped one quarter into the phone, paused a moment as his hand, quarter still clenched in hand, hovered over the return bar. He dropped the second quarter into the machine, and heard the dial tone ring loud and static-filled in his ear. His finger punched the number in without him thinking of it.

The rings resounded in his head. He found himself hoping that no one would answer. No one would answer. Don't answer. Don't answer, don't be there. Don't be there anymore.

A click, a near quiet hush of a breath.

"Hello?"

His breath caught at the familiar voice, his heart skipped a beat, then two, at the cheerful tone, at the sense of easy-going that oozed from the receiver and into his head. He licked suddenly dry lips, eyes flickering from the phone machine in front of him to the helmet on top.

"…hello?"

The cheeriness was disappearing, the voice sounded unsure. Frightened. He bit his tongue and closed his eyes. He didn't want it to stop now, now that he heard it. Now that he had it, he didn't want it to stop, but he couldn't go on with it. He shouldn't have called. He never should have thought of calling and he never should have come out to the phone at all.

"…Roxas?"

The voice sounded close, not frightened anymore, but… hopeful. He opened his eyes, but it was only him and the payphone in front of him, and the voice over the receiver. He unclenched his jaw and relaxed his death grip on the receiver, and opened his mouth.

"Hey…"


	3. Sunny Came Home ~ Shawn Colvin

Scissors cut through the magazine picture. Snip, snip, snip. Little triangle of ocean water fell away. Place it on the table next to the others.

He positions the scissors along the line of a wave.

Snip snip snip.

Triangle for the other triangles. A veritable mosaic of sea green and ocean blue and sea foam white across the kitchen table.

He turns the page. Laughing sea otter eyes, deep deep dark gaze of seals. A clam.

Snip.

It's coral pink this time, and a hexagon. He likes hexagons. And parallelograms.

Axel is ranting around him. About him maybe, at him, towards his general vicinity.

Snip, the yellow triangle tail of a Regal Tang. Splash of color for the world of blues greens and whites scattered across the laminate table top.

He likes the ocean. He likes the sea. He is too far from both now. Detached. Adrift. No, adrift he would be if he were on the sea. Secluded, then. Solitary. Solitude, but not the restful kind.

Snip, snip.

Axel is louder now, maybe because he is closer. The kitchen isn't that big a place anyways. The redhead was bound to get closer to him. He traces the line of a sea turtle's shell with the scissors.

Snip.

The hands around his neck are surprising. He drops the scissors in reflex as fingers squeeze around his throat. His throat constricts. He brings his hands up to the hands on his neck. He can't see Axel, but it's readily apparent he is there.

He can't breathe. He stares down at his mosaic, his scattering of an ocean he once knew. His eyes see spots and dots and he cannot tell if they are white or black or something in between. His throat burns. He is a fish out of water.

Axel lets go suddenly. He is breathing again. He turns a reproachful look on the redhead. Axel watches him.

He turns back to his magazine. Octopus and lion fish. He picks up the scissors. He barely notices when Axel drops to his knees next to him, wraps his arms around his stomach and buries his face in his side.

Snip.

Blue rings from the octopus. Red orange white stripes from the lion fish. Spread the color of the sun with the Regal Tang tail and the pale orange of an anemone.

Axel begins to sob.

He turns the page.

Snip.


	4. Thirteen ~ Garbage

He leaned against the fence running around the edge of the school property. Eyes scanned the crowd of kids exiting the school doors as he flicked a zippo lighter open and closed with one hand. He was thinking of sunny skies and pool parties. He was thinking of summer nights and endless walks. He was thinking of something simple. Something clean. Something effortless and natural.

He pulled away from the fence at the sight of a certain blonde, the lighter getting tucked away in his pocket as he hefted his backpack back onto one shoulder. He stepped into the crowd and sidled up to the shorter boy, smile flickering over his face.

"Hey," He said. Hoping? Wondering? The blonde's eyes flickered towards him.

"You again," The boy wasn't impressed and he wasn't surprised.

His smile didn't falter, and he fell into step next to the blonde. School would be over soon. He could smell the summer air coming. The season of fire was upon him.

"There's a party this Friday," He said, his eyes on the younger boys face. The blonde expression was impassive. Unaffected. He tried again.

"You gonna go?" He asked. The blonde snorted and shrugged his shoulders. Said nothing. He wasn't fazed. He could work with this, this wouldn't stop him. Not him. Nothing had ever stopped him.

"You should go," He said, following the blonde as he turned at the corner. The boy was starting to look tired of the situation. He wasn't going to let up. "It'll be fun."  
"Can't," The blonde said. Snap. Crack. Whip in thin air.

"Why's that?" He asked. Grinned wider, he wasn't disappointed. He wasn't bothered.

"Busy." The blonde started to cross the street, and he followed a step behind on his heels.

"You busy on Saturday?" He asked, eyes on the outrageously spiked blond hair in front of him. He could never lose sight of him. He'd never look away. "Ever been to the Five-and-Ten?"

The blonde stopped abruptly, in the middle of the street with the stop-hand flashing orange, turned to look at him with a frown on his face and his eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" The boy looked irritated. Pissed. Unhappy. Touched, by something. By what?

"Just, want to get to know you," He grinned. He couldn't have stopped grinning if he had wanted to. It was fire in his veins and maybe somewhere else. He'd never wanted to drown but he could drown if it was him. The boy was so bright. So golden. He'd never seen anyone like him before.

The blond gave him a curious look, shrugged again and turned back around to keep walking. He stared after him for a moment. Summer air and sunny skies and long long nights. A car honked at him, and he saw yellow flash to red over the street. He dashed to the other side in long strides. Watched the blond step further down the street away from him. Laughed to himself. Turned towards home.


	5. Bound For The Floor ~ Local H

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Animal Seizure in this one, thought I'd let you know

The dog was convulsing again. Bang bang bang his head against the floor and the wall. He couldn't be bothered to get on top of it again, the fifth time that day, seriously. Seriously. He flicked the match across the black stripe on the matchbook and watched it flicker and burn, lifted it to the cigarette hanging from his lips.

Bang bang whimper bang snort.

He winced, he wasn't completely heartless, just listless. Not coming or going, but not really standing still. No, more like he was leaning, he just didn't know what direction. Footsteps in the hall, bursting into the living room.

"Why don't you stop him?"

He looked at the blonde and grinned, sharp edged and bleeding.

"Why don't you, Roxy?"

Bang bang bang.

"Do you want Demyx to wake up to this? You forget what happened last time?" The blond was furious, his small frame shaking.

He frowned around his cigarette and looked to the dog. It wasn't its fault, after all. It didn't ask for this. He took a last drag on his barely smoked cig and tossed it to the side. The blond cursed and dashed to pick it up before it could set fire to the ancient carpet. He walked over to the dog and grabbed at it, pulled it away from the wall and lay across it, keeping it as stable as it could be while moving in five directions at once.

"You were supposed to be watching him," The blonde growled, crushing the cigarette beneath his shoe.

"Does it matter? He'll go off whether you're watching him or not," He muttered, feeling the dog beneath him stop twisting against the floor. It huffed and puffed, speckles of foam blowing out onto the carpet with each breath, eyes wide and rolling. He sat up a little, watched the dog for a moment. It seemed stable enough now. Stable. He reached out and ran a hand along its side. Its tail wagged.

"If you catch him early you can keep him from hurting himself – god, you know, this!" The blonde was angry, but not so much at him. No, more like the world. Or the situation, or what got them into it. Or maybe what was going to come out of it. Maybe he wasn't angry. Maybe he was just scared.

He didn't look up as the younger boy paced in the room. Stupid dog. It wasn't its fault, but it was stupid all the same. It raised its head and stared at him, licked flecks of foam off of its muzzle. He hummed and murmured to it and patted its head.

Footsteps, slow and faltering. He looked over to the hallway to find number three of their ragtag group blinking blearily and leaning heavily against the wall.

"Something happen?" The brunette spoke slow, words slurred slightly. His eyes were glazed. For all the wrong reasons, too. "Tornado?"

The dog reacted to its name, scrambling to put feet beneath itself and stand up. He leaned away as it stumbled past him, tail whipping side to side as it clambered over to the brunette.

He looked over at the blond staring out the window, jaw clenched, and decided against it. Not worth the trouble. Stood up instead and walked over to where the brunette was crouched by his dog, rubbing the animal's sides as it leaned against him.

"What're you doing up, Dem?" He asked. The brunette shrugged.

"Thought I heard something," Ocean blue eyes grew distant suddenly. Light switch flicked off, blinds drawn, door closed. The dog whimpered and pressed closer to its owner.

"Come on, back to bed. You need your rest, you heard what the doctor said," He pulled the brunette up to his feet, ignored that faraway look in his eyes, and led him back down the hallway. Step after stumbling step. The dog was whimpering again, louder this time. He heard a scrabbling at the living room floor, a thud. The blonde cursed. He pulled the brunette into the bedroom and closed the door.


	6. Desperately Wanting ~ Better Than Ezra

He raced down the hill after the older boy, barely able to see in the half-light of stars and moon. The grass was black and the trees were shadows but the boy ahead of him was shining in his eyes. He could barely catch his breath and his side hurt and his legs burned and he thought they might be running to the horizon, and past it, but he wouldn't mind. He wouldn't mind at all.

The other boy stopped suddenly, abruptly, turned around to face him. He tried to stop, slipped on the grass and crashed into the other. Both of them tumbled to the ground, and he found himself on top of the other. He pushed himself up but not off of him, looked down at the older boy. His eyes had darkened to a deep ocean blue in the dark night, but they were bright, too bright maybe, but his smile was contagious.

"I'm not going back," The older boy said.

He smiled.

"I'm never going back," The older boy continued, laughed, reached up and pulled him back down, pulled him down into a tight hug. He snaked his arms around the other boy's waist, pressed his face against his shoulder, breathed in his scent. Fresh water and incense and sugar. The older boy's touch was cool, but he felt warmth spread through him. He steadied his breath, tried to control his out of control heart that was pounding and pounding and didn't want to stop. The night would be endless, if he had his way. It would never end. This would never end. It couldn't ever end. He smiled, lifting his head to look at the other boy's face. Those blue eyes focused on the stars above with an almost obsessive glint to them. Was there freedom among the stars? He wondered what the other boy was seeing, looking up there, what worlds he was imagining. Were there parents, were there siblings? Was there safety, up there in the stars?

He pulled one arm out from under the boy, reached up to brush sun-bleached strands of hair from his face. The boy turned his eyes to him, smile turning wistful, nostalgic. Naivety had been lost long ago.

"The stars, where do you think they're closest?" The boy tightened his grip on him, arms clenching around his torso almost painfully, but he didn't mind. The boy continued, "Up there? Up high? Or reflected on the water, down here?"

He considered it for a moment, tried to think of an answer that would make sense. He wasn't sure one existed.

"Does it matter? You can't reach them in either place," He answered finally, but his lip and watched the other boy for his reaction.

Laughter, and the older boy rolled them over so they lay on their sides next to each other, curled up and pressed his head against his chest.

He wrapped his arms around the other boy, ran his fingers through his hair. He could be at peace, then, if that moment lasted. If that moment never ended.

"Doesn't mean you shouldn't try," The older boy said, voice very nearly silent.

He closed his eyes, pressed closer to the other boy. Breathed. Exhaled.

"No… no, it doesn't…"


	7. If We Never Go Inside ~ Alkaline Trio

The wind is soft and the air is clear. Stars glitter overhead. He enjoys the night. Craves, it really, the deep dark inky blue-black of the sky above, the shimmering pin-pricks scattered over it. He breathes and he breathes deep and it is the smell of grass and trees and the softest scent of ocean salt.

"I can't believe she gave us a summer science project, seriously, the lady is whacked in the head."

He turns his head slightly to look at the red-headed boy laying next to him on the hillside. He grins at the others expression, sour and rebellious.

"We still have, like, two and a half months to do it," He says, watching the other boy. "What're you stressing for?"

"I'm not stressing," The redhead huffs, glares up at the stars. He chuckles. He knows better by now. Mr. Rough-n-Tumble was Mr. Make-the-Grade behind all the black and the spikes and the anti-social shell mask he wore.

He looks up at the stars again, connecting dots and making shapes. Nothing like the stupid zodiac, not for him. There's a spaceship and a unicorn and a dragon the size of Mars. There's a planet-eater and a worm-hole-worm and a whole other world up there.

"Damn, it's late," The redhead says, shifts, pulls his arms out from under his head and pushes himself up to a sitting position.

His eyes snap to his friend – are they friends already? Or are they still just people who happen to make it to the same places every now and then? When do they pass that line? He is tense. He watches the other boy warily.

"What? No it's not," He says. He can't hear himself, he is trying too hard to hear what the other boy will say.

"It's like midnight man," The redhead turns to give him a smirk. "Seriously, learn to tell time."

"I know how to tell time," He snaps back. The redhead's smirk fades slightly, starts to curve down into a frown.

He looks away, back at the stars. Stars. His fingers are clenching at his elbows, nails digging into his skin, but he can't feel it.

"Come on, we better get home before the 'rent's bust a vein," The redhead says.

"No," It slips past his lips quicker than he'd expected it to. His eyes waver to the redhead, now giving him a curious look, then snap back up at the stars above. He thinks, the way his nails are digging into his skin, that he might start bleeding. He still can't feel it. He licks his lips. "Let's go to the beach."

That comes from nowhere as well, although maybe it isn't nowhere so much as somewhere deep, deep inside. He lets his eyes wander back to the redhead.

"The beach?" The other boy looks slightly disgusted for a moment, then shakes his head, laughs. He stands up. "What the hell, man? Something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong," He is lying through his teeth and he knows it but he manages a grin. It's a weak grin, and the redhead looks like he notices it.

"Hey, look, we'll go to the beach tomorrow, all right?" The other boy says, turning around towards him fully. He looks up at the redhead, disbelieving. Tomorrow will hold just another excuse. He can hear the waves if he tried, he could always hear the waves. Sometimes they came even when he didn't try, just filtered into his head without invitation. He didn't like them then, but at the beach. At the beach. That was different.

"Sure," He says. The redhead grins, a little cocky and self-sure, and he wonders where the other boy hides this easy-going exuberant personality that shows up at times like these. He is nothing like this in school.

"I mean it, we'll go tomorrow. We'll bring those stupid inner-tube things and try to drown some kids and even get some ice cream," The redhead spouts off, hands on his hips, as if he was stating something so obvious that anyone could see it would happen. He tilts his head slightly, smiles, and it is truly genuine this time. "I promise."

"You promise?" He repeats it, he doesn't know why. His fingers have stopped digging into his skin. The night sky, the ocean waves, the scent of salt and grass aren't calling to him as strongly as they had been only a few moments earlier.

"Yeah, got it memorized?" The redhead grins wickedly, then laughs and holds out a hand to him. "Come on."

He stares at that offered hand for a moment, lost and confused and more than a little dazed. He doesn't know what has happened but he thinks it just might be something extremely important. Something life-changing, something special. He doesn't see it, and he wonders if it is just the tiredness setting in and the dream-like atmosphere of the whole moment – was he dreaming? He couldn't be dreaming, because he was dead tired and as dreamy as he had thought the moment was, it really wasn't, but he looks up at the redhead, sees something there in his eyes, and thinks that maybe the other boy has been lonely, too. No one wants to be alone.

He pulls out his arms from under his head. He feels embarrassed, flustered. He reaches out and grabs the other boy's hand, and he smiles.


	8. Friend Is A Four Letter Word ~ Cake

He walked a few steps behind the other two as they headed down the sidewalk from the school. The brunette said something and the blonde laughed and he pulled a cigarette out of the pack he had in his back pocket and lit up. Stupid, it was stupid. It's not like the brunette ever said anything really funny, anyway. He was stupid. Dammit.

He took a long drag on the cigarette, let the smoke drift out his nose. He might as well not even be there, except that was just a sort of pessimistic view of the moment, because really they knew he was there. The brunette would turn to him and say something and he'd respond with a snarky comment and a smirk and the blonde would give him a look like he was still trying to figure him out. It was just the way the group dynamics went, apparently. It wasn't his fault he was the oldest of the group and the most detached – not voluntarily – and it really wasn't his fault that apparently those two had more in common with each other than they had with him. It wasn't his fault. He'd blame it on them and on each other and leave it at that.

They reached an intersection and the brunette separated off, he was going "home", which today could be either the park, or the pool, or the beach, or – goddammit, who really cared anymore, anyway? Cigarette clenched in his teeth he watched him jog between the crossing lines as the stop hand flashed. He wondered if the blonde knew, already, but then he stopped wondering because the blonde had looked at him, clear blue eyes and straw-gold hair and that same puzzled, not-quite-satisfied look he always had around him.

He grinned crookedly and tossed the cigarette butt onto the ground, grinding it out with his heel. This was a moment, wasn't it?

"You busy today?" He asked, sticking his hands in the pockets of his baggy black Tripp pants. The blonde has that distant look in his eyes. "Wanna go to the skate park?"

The blonde's eyes lit up, a little. He knew what he was doing, the blonde boy can't ignore the call of the concrete half pip. He wasn't, in any way, shape, or form, a skater, but he was ready to pretend one if that's what it took.

"Do you want to?" The blonde asked, and it was one of the rare few questions that were directed his way. His grin became easier; the blonde was relaxing. He shrugged.

"Sure, don't have anything better to do." He said, scuffing the edge of a boot sole against the sidewalk.

"I need to stop by my house, get my board," The blonde said, adjusting his backpack. "Do you wanna come? It'll be quick."

"Sure," He said, and they started down the street. He couldn't believe it, really. It was weird, hearing the blonde say so much to him. All because of the stupid skate park. He stifled the urge to chuckle and focused on keeping up with the younger boy.

"Do you need to get your board, or something?" The blonde asked, looking at him, blue eyes half-hidden behind the straw-gold bangs.

"I usually steal Hayner's," He admitted, truthfully. He did steal Hayner's when he was at the park, just not for the purpose it was made for. It usually ended up at the bottom of the park fountain, or in a dumpster behind the Chinese restaurant.

The blonde nodded at his answer, and he thought he saw a grin flash across the younger boy's face. Maybe? Maybe. He was starting to feel a little giddy, he wasn't sure why. Things were going way too well, and he was sure something was going to go wrong eventually, but he didn't want to dwell on it. He didn't know what brought on this wave of awesome but he was willing to ride it out to the end without worrying about it. He'd live in the moment. That's all he had, after all.

They reached the blonde's house in a little while of walking in a sort of semi-companionship. He didn't know what he'd said, or what the blonde had replied, as they made their way. He just knew it was relaxing and energizing at the same time. He thought he might even make an effort to use the board he stole from Hayner that day. It would be worth it.

The house was the same sort of cheery eclectic homey construction like almost every other house in Twilight Town. It left a bad taste in his mouth. The blonde motioned for him to follow up the stairs and past the door, but he felt a little wary suddenly. He stopped just inside the doorway, watched the blonde move further into the house. The walls were a soothing blue. The floor was hardwood, not dark or light but somewhere between. The air smelled like cinnamon and clean sheets. He glanced around. He felt trapped, contained by something that was too calming and too welcoming to be true.

"Roxas, honey, are you going somewhere?"

A woman's voice called out from somewhere further in the house. He could hear footsteps on the floor above, a muffled voice.

"What was that? I didn't hear you…"

The woman's voice came again, and the sound of footsteps moved across the floor.

"I said I'm going out to the skate park with a friend."

He stiffened, lost a moment, like a full-body, full- _being_  hiccup, a sudden loss of vertigo.  _Friend_ , but funny, he thought he'd heard something else, too. The blonde sounded like he  _meant_  it. He grinned. The walls could crowd him in their home comfort all they wanted, he couldn't mind.

The blonde appeared in his view again, backpack replaced with skateboard, his face passive but his eyes shining.

"Let's go." The younger boy said. He could still hear it, in the blonde's voice. Maybe he was losing his head.

"Yeah, let's go." Maybe he was, but he couldn't mind.


	9. Not If You Were The Last Junkie On Earth ~ The Dandy Warhols

The bathtub was too narrow for two. The water sloshed around them as he moved, gray tinged and ice cold.

"It's just a thing, you know? It's nothing. Not really."

He pulled his knees close to his chest, looked at the other boy. Formerly light brown hair gleamed peroxide white under the bathroom's light, tangling in the water. The other's boy's eyes were too bright and too glazed all at the same time.

He shuddered in the cold water. The other boy shifted, angling the legs he'd hung over the edge of the tub, his hands coming up to run fingers through his tangled hair, hummed to himself. He didn't recognize the tune, maybe it was one of the other's boy's own, but it didn't matter. He was focused too hard on ignoring the track marks on the other boy's arms to make sense of it.

The boy paused humming, a barely-there grin filtering across his face before vanishing.

"I can stop whenever I want."

He nodded. He wondered if he would be considered too young to be an enabler. He wondered if it was something he could pass off as a youth thing.

What would his excuse be?

" _I just didn't realize..."_

The other boy started humming again, another unknown tune.

There was a scuffling at the open bathroom door, a snuffling and huffing. He looked over to see the pit-lab-rott-beagle-dober-mutt looking in through the doorway, brown eyed and innocent looking. A surge of hate rushed through him, but it wasn't hate really. Frustration. Helplessness.

He wanted to be  _innocent_. Where had his life gone?

The other boy shifted again, his arms floating in the water. One of the boy's elbows touched his side, tapped it really, but it felt like more to him. His hands twitched at his knees. If he touched him, could he – _save_ - _help_ - _free_ \- him? If he touched him, could he join him?

He grimaced, pulled himself up and out of the bathtub in an almost vault. Water splashed out around him, slopping onto the ground, his pants and shirt sticking to his body. The other boy continued humming. He hadn't expected him to notice, just hoped for it. Two different things. The dog yelped as he neared the doorway, scuttled away across the hardwood floor of the hallway in a trot. A sixty pound wuss. He followed behind it, his sneakers squelching against the floor, small puddles dotting the way behind him.

The TV was on in the living room. It all sounded like static to him. He had his fists clenched and he had just realized it. The dog jumped onto the couch next to the redhead seated there, curling up against him.

He stalked into the room, and the redhead looked over at him, eyebrow raised. He glared at the older boy-man-he was just at the edge of it, wasn't he? It was his house, his rental, his… whatever. He was old enough to be held responsible, wasn't he? He was the one who could do something.

"Something wrong, Roxy?" The redhead smirked.

He fumed. He seethed. He couldn't decide what he wanted. He didn't know what had happened, why he'd reached a point like this. Barely half-way through high school and he could already see his future derailed. Was this the point, the moment of decision? Or had he passed it already, left it far behind, walked past with blinded eyes? He could imagine himself running, getting away, moving past and leaving all of this so, so far behind him. He could imagine it, but he couldn't make to move away, to steer in a different direction. He didn't know when he'd gotten caught up in this web but he'd started accepting that he wasn't getting free. He wouldn't go down without a fight, but he couldn't see himself getting out of this hole either.

"Everyone's got vices," The redhead said, flipping a channel, hand resting on the dog's back, his eyes glinting as they turned back to him. "And you're not exactly a saint either."

He started at that, shot a shocked glance at the redhead. Acid green eyes revealed nothing. He took a deep breath, walked over to the couch, sat at the other end. The dog twisted around, half-tail thumping at the couch cushions as it licked at his hand. He felt defeated. He wanted to go home. Not the house home, not where he went every night, but  _home_. He wanted to go  _back_ , back before. He wanted things to make sense again.

"It's your turn to drag him out of the tub," He said finally. The redhead laughed, but it sounded hallow, just how he felt. He closed his eyes.


	10. Unwell ~ Matchbox Twenty

He is awake suddenly, eyes opened to stare at the cracked ceiling. He is in the bed, and that is a little surprising. He sits up, and remembers that it is the fourth day that he has been thinking clear enough to remember what he had done the day before. It is the second day that he has woken up by himself, and the first day when he has decided that it would be better for him to get out of bed and start doing something rather than sit there and wait for someone to get him.

He gets out of bed and walks into the hallway and turns towards the kitchen. Sunlight shines through the kitchen windows and everything looks bright. He thinks about making something to eat, but his hands are shaking badly and he is worried he won't be able to do anything properly, so he decides to wait on that. A calendar is hanging on the wall next to the cupboard, and he stops to look at it. He checks the month and he counts the days that are crossed out with thick black x's and he checks the year to be sure – has that much time gone by? He can't remember. What he does remember is the day's date, it's an important one. If the calendar is right, then today is a very special day indeed.

He heads back to the bedroom and pulls the clothes he has on off. He doesn't know whose clothes he is putting on, but they fit him and they look fine and they're clean and that's all that matters. He heads into the living room and finds a matching pair of shoes under the dining room table. The table is covered in magazines and old newspapers, with only a small area of it left clean. The tv is on in the room but no one is on the couch. He listens to the voices of news anchors as he pulls the shoes on and ties the laces. He stands up and looks down at himself. Shoes on, pants on, shirt on. He's ready.

He heads to the front door and pulls it open, stepping out onto the front porch and starting down the front steps, passing by the redhead seated on the second step from the top. Cigarette smoke reaches him, but it doesn't bother him. He is two steps away from the stairs when he hears a voice.

"Hey Dem, where're you going?"

He turns around and faces the redhead on the stairs. Those green eyes looking at him look tired and the fingers holding the cigarette shake slightly, but the redhead smiles at him. He smiles back.

"To the ocean." He responds, and the redhead raises an eyebrow and gives him a curious look.

"What for?" The redhead asks.

"It's my birthday," He answers. That's right, he's twenty-one now. He can drink, officially, but it doesn't mean much to him. He could always drink.

"We can go down there any other day," The redhead says, and crushes his cigarette out on the flaking railing even though it's only smoked down half-way.

"No…" He says defiantly, glaring at the redhead. "I'm going today."

"How're you gonna get there?" The redhead asks, folding his hands and resting his arms on his knees.

He blinks, thinking for a moment.

"Walk," He says, and grins. "I'll walk."

The redhead stays silent, and just looks at him with a tired look on his face. He doesn't remember the redhead being so thin before. Before, when before? How long ago had he looked, really looked, at him last? What was muddying up all those memories, and all those… years?

He frowns and clenches his hands into fists. He can hear the waves in his head, and they're getting louder. He can hear them so close and so loud and they're deafening.

"I have to go," He says it and pronounces it very clearly. The redhead shakes his head. "I have to go today."

"Dem," The redhead reaches a hand out to him, his voice is pleading. "Not today, Dem, we'll go some other day. Stay here today."

He is shaking, he realizes, and not just his hands anymore. He looks at the offered hand, eyes it warily. He feels scared, and he doesn't know why. He's scared. Uncertain. He looks at the redhead and sees that his eyes are warm and honest.

He is torn.

"I… I have to go…" He mutters, inching closer to the redheads outstretched hand.

"I know," The redhead says softly, "I know, and we'll go. Some other day, we'll go…"

"You… you promise?" He says, reaching a hand out tentatively towards the redhead's hand.

"Yeah, I promise." The redhead says, and a small grin comes to his face as their hands touch. "Got it memorized?"

The redhead's hand is warm in his. He is surprised to see that neither one of them is shaking anymore. He looks at the redhead and grins.

"Yeah, I got it memorized." He says. The waves are receding, growing quiet and distant and he isn't even paying attention to them anymore. He isn't paying attention to them at all.


	11. Talk To Me Summer ~ Screeching Weasel

"Stupid ducks," Roxas muttered, and pulled a piece from the slice of toast he was holding and tossed it out onto the water. The birds scrambled to snap at it, sleek wet backs glistening in the sun. The brunette next to him snickered, pulling a piece off of his slice of toast but putting it in his mouth instead of tossing it out to the birds.

"Dem, the bread's for the birds," The redhead said standing next to him, giving a long-suffering sigh.

The brunette snorted, then paused in his chewing only long enough to mumble, "I'm hungry."

"You're always fucking hungry," The redhead said, sneering, "You eat everything. You're gonna be a total fatass one day."

"What?" The brunette shot him an indignant look. "That's not true. Roxas! Tell him it's not true."

The blonde turned to find the brunette giving him a shocked look. He grinned and laughed a little.

"Don't listen to him Demyx, he's just jealous cuz he's a freaking beanpole," Roxas laughed. Demyx chuckled and pulled another piece of toast out of the bag they had brought. Neither one of them responded to the glare the redhead was sending their way.

"Whatever. I'll be at the reptile house, so whenever the two of you grow the fuck up you can find me there." The redhead growled, pushing away from the railing he was leaning against and stalked down the path away from the other two. Roxas looked at Demyx with a raised eyebrow.

"Cranky much?" He tossed a few more pieces to the ducks and the brunette shrugged.

"Eh, he's always pissy around finals time," Demyx replied, throwing the crusts from this most recent piece of toast into the water. "Making the grade and all that shit."

"Axel? Seriously?" Roxas asked with a surprised look. Demyx laughed.

"He's like straight-A all the way," The brunette started eating another piece of toast bread. "That's why I get him to help me on my homework."

"Hm," Roxas mulled over that new information in his head. "Don't you think he lost some weight lately?"

"Come on Roxy, put two and two together," Demyx eyed the empty bag in his hand sadly. "Finals is stress, and stress makes people lose weight, right? Besides, he's got a hell of a time keeping weight on normally."

"Why?" Roxas asked, tossing the last of the bread into the water. The ducks scrambled for it again.

"Dunno. He's just weird." The brunette next to him said, rolling up the bread bag and stuffing it in his pocket. He stood up and stretched, grimacing slightly, then sent a beaming smile down at the blond. "Come on, let's go find Ax before he leaves us with no ride home."

Roxas stood up from his crouch, trying to suppress the blush that was spreading across his cheeks as he looked back at the brunette. He rarely saw the other guy smile that bright, and he liked to imagine, sometimes, that it was because of  _him_  that Demyx smiled like that.

"That's totally something he would do…" Roxas laughed.

"I know, right?" Demyx slung an arm across the younger blond's shoulders companionably and pulled him along down the path. "Hey, so, like, I think I'm gonna bleach my hair like, really, really blond."

"How fitting," Roxas snickered, and the burnette gave him a puzzled look.

"Whaddya mean, fitting?" Demyx asked, a little miffed, but Roxas just started laughing. Demyx frowned, but Roxas shook his head and got his laughter under control.

"Don't worry about it," Roxas said, grinning. He felt comfortable right then. "I'll help you."

"Seriously? You're awesome, Roxy," Demyx said happily, and Roxas steered the way down the longer path to the reptile house. Getting left behind by the pissed-off redhead didn't matter all that much right then, he was going to milk this moment for all it was worth.


	12. The Crow and The Butterfly ~ Shinedown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I originally wrote this there was at least one, if not two, more chapters I had planned on writing, but I think it sorta ended at a good spot anyways.  
> You don't have to let me know what you think, but I'd appreciate it if you do
> 
> **Timeline:**
> 
> _If We Never Go Inside_
> 
> _Thirteen_
> 
> _Friend is a Four Letter Word_
> 
> _Desperately Wanting_
> 
> _Talk To Me Summer_
> 
> _Not If You Were The Last Junkie On Earth_
> 
> _The Crow and The Butterfly_
> 
> _Bound for the Floor_
> 
> _Unwell_
> 
> _The Distance_
> 
> _Sunny Came Home_
> 
> _Stars_

Roxas didn't even try suppressing the look of contempt that crossed his face as he glared at the man in his doorway. Dingy blue jeans nearly falling off slim hips, stained dark gray band shirt a size too big, cigarette in his lips. Axel looked much like he had three weeks earlier, grungier perhaps. Thinner, definitely, and maybe dirtier. Drunker. Roxas grimaced at the smell of cheap beer and vodka emanating from the redhead.

"Come on," Axel said, his voice surprisingly sober-sounding, and grabbed the blonde by the arm. Roxas pulled his arm out of the other's grasp and glared at him.

"Don't touch me," The blonde growled, but the redhead only responded by grabbing his arm again.

"Come  _on_ ," He spoke with more force this time, pulling the blonde out of the doorway and onto the walkway in front of the house. The evening had already grown dark and the streetlights had come on. Roxas frowned and dug his heels into the ground, pulling back as the redhead pulled him forward.

"What the hell do you want?" He spat, finally managing to pull his arm free from the redhead's vice-like grip. There were red marks on his forearm where the other man's fingers had dug into his skin.

"Need to get Demyx," Axel muttered, giving the blonde a dull-eyed look. There was something else there, something flickering and burning. Roxas ignored it and gave a scoffing laugh.

"Oh, oh, so now you're ready to go find him, are you?" Roxas said heatedly. "It only took you what, four months?"

Axel didn't respond, just stood there staring at him with that strange flickering in his eyes. Roxas wasn't sure why but a sense of foreboding starting swirling through him, gathering in his gut. For a moment they stood there, the smoke of the redhead's cigarette swirling around both their heads. Roxas gave a grunt finally, turned around and went back to the house. He gathered his keys from the key holder and headed out, locking the door and shoving his keys into his pocket. He turned around to face Axel, who hadn't moved from his spot on the walkway.

This was a bad idea, a seriously bad idea. Roxas knew that going anywhere with a drunk Axel couldn't bode well, but… Demyx. A pang shot through his chest, that swirl of foreboding growing. Where was he? Where had he gone? Why hadn't he contacted him – them?

"All right, let's go," Roxas said, and walked towards the other man. The redhead's face seemed to brighten, just slightly, but then he'd turned around and started heading towards the beat up Civic on the driveway. Roxas grimaced as he followed, opened the passenger side door with the hope that it wouldn't fall off this time. He sat down and pulled the door shut, and Axel started the car as soon as he did. The engine roared and rattled and Roxas hoped his parents wouldn't freak out, again. He fumbled for the seatbelt and clicked it as Axel sent the car backing onto the street.

The car rocketed down the streets, and Roxas was sure they were doing at least ten above the speed limit – make it fifteen now. He spared a glance at the redhead, a little taken aback by the fierce look of determination on the man's face. The car engine roared again, and the blonde's eyes found the speedometer, widened at the sight of the needle twitching its way past larger numbers.

"Axel, slow down," He said, gritting his teeth and clutching the seat tightly. The redhead didn't seem to hear him, and the engine kept roaring as streetlights and cross streets raced by in a blur. "Axel, slow the fuck down!"

"Shut up," The redhead growled, gunning the engine even more. The car rattled as it sped along, tires screeching as the redhead pulled it into a sudden turn. Roxas found himself tossed against the side door, the breath knocked out of him. He cursed as the car straightened again, and then found himself flung forward as the car slid to a halt, the seatbelt stopping him a couple inches short of bashing his forehead open against the dashboard.

"What the fuck?" He cried out, heart pounding and breath coming fast. His chest hurt where the seatbelt had dug into it. He was going to have a bruise. Grimacing he looked over at the redhead. Axel was turning the keys in the ignition, the engine cutting off. He pulled the keys out of the ignition – was his hand shaking? – and tucked them into his pocket. For a moment he stared past the windshield, and Roxas followed his gaze. There was a row of low, two-story houses in various states of disrepair before them. The one directly ahead of them seemed to be kept up the best, and a shiny new pickup stood parked on the driveway.

"Listen," Axel said suddenly, and Roxas turned to find the redhead looking at him. "If you want to get out of there in one piece, then keep your mouth shut and keep close to me. Got it?"

"Where are we?" Roxas asked, but Axel was already opening his door and getting out. That sick sense in his gut was stabbing at him, and Roxas swallowed nervously and opened the side door. Slamming it closed behind him, he followed the redhead across the cracked sidewalk and down the stained driveway. He could see light flickering behind the blinds on the first floor, and something flickering in one of the windows on the second floor.

Axel headed for the front door and pulled it open. Roxas paused in surprised, then remembered what the redhead had told him and hurried over to keep up with him. The entryway was dark and unlit, and there was a pervasive smell of smoke and something sour. Axel tossed his cigarette butt to the floor and pulled the door closed behind him. The small area was stifling, Roxas felt claustrophobic suddenly, panicky. The redhead moved onward, and the blond followed behind. The room they walked into seemed to be a living room, with two large futon couches shoved up against two of the walls. Roxas eyed them warily, not wanting to think about the what caused the dark stains covering them. Strange posters hung on the walls, and a cabinet on the far wall had three shotguns on display.

"The fuck you two want?" A gruff voiced reached him, and he spun around towards the source. A man sat slouched in a large lazy chair, dressed in black jeans and a white tank. He was large and well-muscled, with various tattoos decorating his neck and arms. A large vividly black swastika stood out on the front of his neck. At his feet lay a large Doberman, black coat glistening in the TV shine. It looked at the two intruders and bared its teeth in a silent growl. The man's eyes turned to the blonde, and Roxas scooted closer to Axel and attempted to avoid meeting the gaze of those ice blue eyes. "Told you not to bring your pets with you, Red."

"Come on," Axel said, apparently ignoring the man. Roxas wasn't sure that was a good idea, but he hurried after the redhead as he led the way further into the house and towards a staircase.

"He a fucking Jew, Red?" The man called after them, anger apparent in his voice.

"He's not a Jew, old man!" Axel yelled back, fists clenching. "Goddamn fucker… Keep close Roxas."

The blonde didn't need to be told twice. He kept so close to the redhead he almost ran into him when the other man turned to go up the stairs. The smell of smoke was stronger upstairs, cigarette and some other type of smoke that Roxas had only ever smelled at Axel's house after the redhead and Demyx had had a late night partying.

"Hey boys," A sultry voice spoke from an open doorway. Roxas heard Axel growl in front of him, and he looked around the redhead to see a slim, curvy female figure standing in the doorway to a bedroom. She was dressed in a spaghetti string top that looked two sizes too small and pajama pants that sat low on her curvy hips. Her hair was violently blonde and styled in a pixie cut. Her eyes were a shade of blue-green so similar to Demyx's that the boy felt a pang strike through him. The sick feeling in his gut was making itself quite at home, twisting and churning.

"Fuck off Larxene," Axel growled, grabbing Roxas's arm and pulling him along.

"Oooo, testy today are we?" The girl grinned wickedly, then added in a knowing tone, "You're not gonna find him here…"

Axel stopped suddenly, and Roxas did run into him this time. The redhead turned around and fixed her with a hard stare.

"You wanna know more?" The girl asked, hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her pajama pants and slipping them down a good few inches. "Do me a favor and maybe I'll do one for you, hm?"

Roxas looked away, found himself looking at the redhead instead. Axel's face was expressionless, his eyes less glazed.

"Why didn't he come back?" Axel said in such a controlled tone Roxas looked at him in shock.

For a moment the girl was silent, and Roxas chanced a look back at her. Her pants were back in their former position, and she had crossed her arms across her chest, a pouty frown on her face.

"Tony's out," She said finally, grimacing. Roxas felt the redhead stiffen next to him, felt what seemed to be a rise in the temperature coming off of the man. The girl motioned her head further down the hallway, then turned around and sauntered back into her room. Roxas turned to send Axel a questioning look, but the redhead was already stalking down the hallway towards a door at the far end. Roxas hurried along after him, only to jump back in surprise when Axel kicked at the door violently. The door rattled on its hinges, but didn't open. There was a loud thump from the room on the other side, and cursing in a language that Roxas couldn't recognize. Soon enough the door opened to reveal a man, pale skinned shaved-headed and dressed in nothing more than a pair of dark gray boxers. A myriad of tattoos covered his chest, tattoos that Roxas didn't want to spend too long a time looking at. The man took one look at the redhead and a wide shit eating grin spread across his face.

"Hey Red, what's up?" The man asked companionably, as if no one had just tried to kick down his door. Axel, on the other hand, was steaming.

"Where is he?" Axel growled. Roxas eyed the redhead's clenched fists uncertainly, edging back a little.

"Who? Oh, the kid? He ain't back yet?" The man scratched at his close-shaven scalp thoughtfully.

Axel slammed his fist into the doorframe with a resounding thud. The man laughed.

"Shit, man, calm the fuck down. Kid got into the speed this morning, started going off like a firecracker." The man grinned and pushed the redhead's fist off of the doorframe before leaning on it himself. "Started spazzing about the ocean."

"You took him to the ocean?" Axel hissed, and the man shrugged.

"Said it was his birthday and that's where he wanted to go. So I said what the fuck and drove him down there. Only way I could get any sleep around here," The man grinned. Roxas couldn't see Axel's face, but he was sure his expression was drastically different from the man's.

Suddenly the redhead spun around and started back down the hallway towards the stairs, moving much more quickly than before. Roxas found himself alone, suddenly targeted by the predatory gaze of the boxer-clad man. He didn't like the way those eyes looked at him, looked over him, traveled over his body like he was a piece of meat out for sale. He dashed down the hallway after Axel, catching up to him at the base of the stairs. The sound of machine gun fire came from the TV in the living room, and the man in the lazy chair was laughing as they passed by, one hand stroking the sleek head of his seated Doberman. The dog bared its teeth at them again, white and glistening dangerously.

Roxas swallowed thickly and followed Axel as he stalked out the door. The whole place left a bad taste in his mouth, a bad feeling in his whole being.

"What was that place?" He asked as he settled into his seat, having the sick strange feeling he already know the answer. Axel didn't respond, shoving his keys into the ignition instead and starting the car up. He started the car down the street at speeds that turned their surroundings into a multicolored blur. Axel slowed only slowly nearing intersections, and blasted past other cars on the busier roads. Roxas had no idea where they were going, no, he had the idea that they were going to the beach, the  _ocean_ , but how they were going to get there was beyond him. He'd never been there in his life, no matter how many times Demyx had begged the other two to go with him. Actually, Roxas couldn't remember a time when Demyx's begging to go to the ocean had ever been acted on – Axel always had some sort of excuse ready for why they shouldn't go.

The younger blonde hazarded a look at the redhead. The stench of beer and vodka was strong in the car, but the redhead looked sober, totally and utterly sober. His hands were shaking on the steering wheel. Roxas bit his lip, clutching the seat until his knuckles turned white.

"Axel, what was that pl-"

"If you haven't figured it out, then I'm not telling you," Axel interrupted, his voice so low Roxas could barely hear it over the roaring engine and the rattling of the car doors. Roxas closed his eyes and fought down the wave of nausea that hit him. He peeled his fingers from the seat, wrapped his arms around himself. Who could live in a house like that? Who could live…

He choked on plain air, or maybe a lack of it. His throat closed, convulsed, bile rising in the back of his throat. He didn't know how much time passed, the only sign that they'd reached their destination was the screech of tires and the sudden sense of vertigo as the car skidded to a halt. Axel was out of the car before Roxas had opened his eyes. The blond fumbled with his seatbelt, shoving the car door open and stumbling out onto the asphalt of the beach parking lot. He looked around, his stomach churning, pangs shooting through his gut Axel was standing on the curb between parking lot and the beach sand, a shadow against darker darkness. Further past him Roxas could see the pale sand fading into rippling dark waves. A long, dark rectangle stretched out across the water, the beach pier.

"Axel?" Roxas groaned, choking back the feeling of dread that was flooding him. He stepped closer to the readhead, hand clutching at his stomach. "Axel…"  
The man didn't seem to hear him. Roxas was close now, very close. The redhead collapsed to the sand suddenly, and Roxas jerked, found himself dropping to the sand himself. He was shaking. He looked at Axel, tried to form a question in his mind. The beach was empty. The pier was empty. He felt so lost suddenly, so confused. He tried to speak, but he couldn't. Axel sat next to him, fidgeting, twitching, he rubbed his hands through the sand over and over and over. Roxas wrapped his arms around himself, leaned against the redhead. The night air was chilly.

"Why isn't he here?" The redhead's voice cracked, it was half-speech, half-sob. Roxas looked at him, surprised, shocked, unable to believe that he was really seeing tears streaking down the redhead's face.

"Why isn't he here?"


End file.
